Situation: Critical
by Carcaohtar
Summary: When one of Sasha's experiments goes wrong, Jasper escapes Gloria's head and terrorizes Whispering Rock with his rampant criticism. Will they ever get him under control or be doomed to be insulted forever? ON HIATUS
1. Gloria's Biggest Fan

Author's Note: This is an idea I've had for ages but I finally got the motivation to actually post. The first few chapters are less funny since I'm setting up the plot here. But trust me, it gets better. Hope you get some laughs from it!

* * *

**Situation: Critical**

-Chapter 1-

"Are you sure this won't hurt?

"Absolutely."

"Positive?"

"Yes."

"One hundred percent?"

"Unequivocally."

Gloria van Gouten considered. "Well. I don't know what that means, but I'll trust you." Sasha sighed heavily, using every ounce of willpower he had to resist defining the word to her.

Gloria had been, in the past, a huge star on television. With her strong background in the act of acting, her dramatic, emotion-conveying voice, and her frizzy hair that stood everywhere, she had a commanding presence that drew all eyes to her. On the stage, she was nothing short of fabulous. In Sasha Nein's lab, she stood out like a sore thumb.

Sasha Nein was a man of science, and tended to go to great lengths to conduct psychological experiments on people with unusual psyches. Gloria had one such psyche (she had once been a resident at an insane asylum, diagnosed as being bipolar) and, a year after her release from the asylum, Sasha had decided she warranted study. Of course, he knew that Gloria would have never gone for it if she knew it was for science. So he'd insisted he was her biggest fan, which was such an enormous lie that he'd almost felt bad about it. (Almost. It was, after all, for science.)

Sasha had "forgotten" to mention he was also a psychic government agent—a psychonaut. Considering he dressed in black suits, dark sunglasses, and operated an underground laboratory, he felt that if she was too stupid to know he was a psychic government agent, she didn't deserve to know.

"What I'm going to do," he explained, "is put this on your forehead—"

"What is it?" interrupted Gloria. Sasha frowned.

"It's a… erm… never mind what it is. You'll go into a trance while I project myself into your—erm—I mean, I'm going to stay here outside your mind like a normal non-psychic scientist—erm—I mean, huge fan, who also happens to be a scientist. While you're in the trance I'll be able to explore your psyche—erm—I mean, I'll ask you questions and… yes. That's what will happen."

"Well just make sure you don't get too personal," said Gloria luxuriously, stretching out. "I know the temptation a woman of my type presents to a man such as yourself." She laughed over-dramatically and batted her eyelashes.

Sasha scoffed and rolled his eyes. Luckily, she couldn't see it behind his sunglasses.

"Yes, well, let's continue," he said primly. He carefully stuck the psycho-portal to her forehead (it was a standard-issue device for all psychonauts, to allow them to project themselves into non-psychic minds) and stood back to admire it.

Gloria, of course, immediately misinterpreted Sasha's fond, almost gushy expression.

"Never mind, my dear boy," she drawled, patting his arm condescendingly. "I'm sure _someday_ you'll find a woman. Not me, of course, but someone who fits you, who you can love and cherish and hold and—"

Sasha put a hand over his face miserably.

"—to share your joys and sorrows, your laughter and tears…" Gloria continued airily, unaware of Sasha's embarrassment. The only time he ever got the stupid, lovey look on his face was when he was about to conduct an experiment, usually one that involved fancy equipment.

"—standing in the moonlight, whispering each other's names as your explore each other's bod—"

"Okay, thank you, Gloria, that's enough!" said Sasha shrilly, blushing deeply. He rose. "Just try and relax while I project—er, I mean—put you in a trance."

"And you're sure this won't hurt?" she asked, a hand rising to delicately touch the psycho-portal on her head.

"Of course not," said Sasha. "Unless, of course, something really very bad happens."


	2. Jasper Unleashed

-Chapter 2-

"August sixth. 2006. Sasha Nein reporting from within the psyche of a diagnosed bipolar," said Sasha into his tape recorder. Thanks to the psycho-portal, astral projections of both himself and his tape recorder were inside Gloria's subconscious, where Sasha was dutifully recording what he observed.

"I am standing in what appears to be a large theater. The floor is—" He stomped experimentally. "—made from what appears to be wood. The ceiling is high. I do not see any censors or other mental beings. In fact, it is quite empty except for some very cheap wooden scenery over there. This confirms my early hypothesis that Gloria is quite absent-minded."

"Hey, you!" shouted a voice from across the theater. It echoed. Sasha jumped, then quickly regained his cool and smoothed down his jacket.

"Making contact with a mental being," he reported into his recorder as a very normal-looking woman approached him. She was dressed in a simple plaid skirt, high-top sneakers, and a long-sleeved shirt; her hair had a practical style that contrasted greatly with Gloria's fantastic red 'do. Aside from her large headset, the woman simply wasn't remarkably.

"She's simply not remarkable," reported Sasha.

"Hey! Who are you calling unremarkable!"

"No one," said Sash quickly. "Who are you?"

"Becky, Becky Houndstooth. I'm the director, and if you don't mind, you're standing right in the middle of the stage!"

"Excuse me," said Sasha, letting Becky drag him out of the center of the huge amphitheatre. "I'm simply such a big fan of Gloria's I thought I'd, erm, stand in the middle of her theater."

"Why?" asked Becky, face twisting in confusion.

"Never mind," said Sasha quickly. He went for his recorder. "Mental being is unaware of—"

"Hey, I'm right here! Geez, you're weird. What are you, a reporter?"

"No, I'm a scien—yes! Yes, I am a reporter. Please tell me all about this production," asked Sasha, thrusting his recorder into Becky's face.

"Okay, okay, chill out there, eager beaver. This is a play called 'Razputin Fights the Phantom.' It's all about how last year, we had this phantom who was haunting our theater and freaking out our main star. Then this kid comes in out of nowhere, gives us a bunch of great screenplays, gets rid of our phantom, and bam, disappears. Great, huh?"

"Compelling," agreed Sasha. "Tell me about some of your other plays."

"Mostly we do plays about Gloria. But this one is turning out okay. Watch—FROM THE TOP, PEOPLE!" she screeched. Sasha cringed.

With a lot of loud squeaking, a backdrop of a theatre exactly like the theatre they were in hit the ground, and on stage, two small creatures wearing an over-elaborate costumes stepped out. One was wearing googles and a backpack; the other had a headset.

"OH, WHY OH WHY DOES THAT TERRIBLE PHANTOM RUIN ALL MY PLAYS!" shouted the headset actress loudly.

"DO NOT WORRY, BECKY! I HAVE COME TO FREE YOU FROM THE PHANTOM!" shouted the other one.

"WHO—ARE—YOU?" shouted the actress playing Becky, with a massive fake jerk of surprise.

"I—AM—RAZPUTIN! A YOUNG AND MYSTERIOUS BOY WHO COMES TO FREE YOUR FROM THE PHANTOM!"

"What'd you think?" asked Becky.

Sasha's face twisted. "It's certainly…" he searched for a polite way to say terrible. "…loud," he finished politely.

"He hates it!" came a new voice from above them. "He thinks it's a piece of utter tripe, and so do I! I'd rather be having a root canal right now than watch another minute of his horrid production!"

"Shut up, Jasper!" snapped Becky calmly without even turning around.

Sasha squinted. Above their heads, an empty balcony seemed to be talking.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Oh, that's just our local critic, Jasper. Ever since we revealed he was the phantom last year, he's been pretty mellow," said Becky breezily.

"Oo. I must interview him!"

"Naw, forget it," advised Becky. "You'd be better off watching the rest of our play. It just gets better and better!"

Sasha cringed noticeably. "I'd love to, but I need to, ah, get going."

"Gonna disappear on us like that kid, huh?" asked Becky, sounding disappointed. "Let me tell you, we've searched the whole theatre and still have no clue where he went. Bonita wanted to thank him personally for putting Jasper in his place."

"Mental beings are unaware of a world outside their theatre," Sasha reported into his recorder.

"What?" came the voice from the balcony. A squat face with two tufts of cone-shaped hair on either side of its otherwise bald head peeked over the railing. "There's a place away from this wretched piece of poorly produced garbage?"

"Yes, but you cannot come," said Sasha flatly, getting ready to get out of Gloria's mind via a small box of smelling salts.

"Wait! You have to take me with you! I can't stay here any longer!" cried Jasper in anguish. "The acting is so… so… _sub-par_!"

"Good-bye," said Sasha to Becky, pulling open the smelling salts. At the exact same moment, Jasper leaped off the balcony and tackled him—and with a dizzying jolt, both were thrown back into the physical world.


	3. Meeting in the Lodge

-Chapter 3-

"I'm out!" cried Jasper. He patted down his fat frame, clothed in a black tuxedo and bowtie. "I'm alive! I'm away from that godforsaken, sorry excuse for a play! I could _sing_!"

Gloria, perched daintily on a chair, stared at him. "Where did you come from?" she asked sleepily, rubbing her eyes.

"Who are you?" sneered Jasper. "Never mind. I don't care." He began adjusting his bowtie, cufflinks, and curly cones of red hair.

"Excuse me, but you're sitting on my biggest fan," sniffed Gloria haughtily.

"He's a terrible chair," reported Jasper. "Not at all soft, lumpy, misshapen. I give him a D- at best." He stood.

Sasha, whose face had been pressed into the laboratory floor, gasped for air with an audible wheeze. "Fascinating!" he croaked, pulling out his crunched up, mangled recorder. "Mental being is actuallyexisting outside consciousness of subject!"

"Did you hit your head when you fell?" asked Gloria, sounding concerned.

"Good-bye, you uncultured peasants! I'm off to Hollywood!" cried Jasper, hurrying up the stairs and out of the lab.

Sasha sat up dizzily. "Oh no! Wait! Come back! You have to get back inside her head!"

"I'm never going back!" shouted Jasper before he disappeared out the door. He slammed it after him; it echoed in Sasha's lab. Sasha looked slightly worried.

"Well. This is bad," he reported.

"What's bad? What happened? Who was that guy?" asked Gloria.

"He was—never mind. Er… why don't you stay here and… um… admire yourself while I go… um… fantasize you over there somewhere," said Sasha. He dashed out of the lab, but by the time he'd climbed all the stairs to make it above ground, Jasper was long gone. He stood clinking in the bright sunshine, birds in trees chirping, and worried about what he was going to do.

"Ranger Cruller! Have you see a remarkably fat man with a grating voice walk by here?" asked Sasha desperately, striding dutifully towards Ranger Cruller, who was raking a pile of rocks absent-mindedly.

"Sure did," he said. "Said he was going to the lodge."

"Oh, thank God!" Sasha dashed off to the lodge, but was back only minutes later with a scowl on his face.

"Didja find him?" asked Ranger Cruller.

"I didn't mean Morry!" snapped Sasha in frustration, referring to the squat coach who ran Whispering Rock, the camp in which Sasha's lab happened to be located.

"Oh. Well, I can't help you, then," said Ranger Cruller.

Sasha pulled out a cigarette and lit it impatiently. He didn't want to ask for help, but the fact was that he'd released a mental being into the real world and needed to regain control of the situation—fast. With a sigh of defeat, he asked Ranger Cruller to circulate an announcement for the whole camp compound to meet him in the lodge that night.

* * *

"Alright, listen up, maggots!" yelled Coach Morceau Oleander. "You are the hunter! And _this_ is the hunted!" He held up a poster.

"We're hunting posters?" asked Dogen in confusion.

"What's _on_ the poster, Dogen," explained Lili patiently.

"Oh. We're hunting swimsuit models?"

"Are you blind? This isn't a swim—oh," said Oleander, looking at the poster. "Wrong one. _This_! This is your prey!"

He held up a picture of Jasper.

Phoebe Love raised her hand. "Is that a dangerous psychic criminal?"

"No. It's a mental being that Sasha carelessly let out of someone's mind during an experiment."

"It was a good experiment!" protested Sasha weakly.

"Ever noticed that all your good experiments end up like this?" asked Milla Vodello critically. Sasha's partner and polar opposite, she was a tall, beautiful, Brazilian woman with voluptuous hair and a love of all clothing produced prior to 1980.

"Not all of them…"

"Let's see. Brain Tumber. Five kids went insane."

"But not the sixth!"

"Flux transponder. Blew up half the lodge."

"It needed to be rebuilt anyway!"

"Microantimony diffusion ray. Dyed your hair canary yellow."

"That was on purpose!"

"Whipped cream and handcuffs…"

"_Your _experiment, not mine! I only participated!"

"Right, getting back on track!" barked Oleander, shaking the poster of Jasper at them ferociously. "We're all going to split up into groups and hunt him down! He's a critic so be careful, he'll probably be scathingly... um... _critical_."

Mikhail's hand went up. "When we find critic, we put him in headlock, da?"

"What? Um, sure, if you want," said Oleander.

Elka's hand went up. "He's not, like, a talent agent, is he? I mean, if we happened to have a really great romantic Hollywood play..."

"Um, no. Okay, frst we need two volunteers to stay with Gloria and make sure she doesn't leave before we can get her critic back into her head! Without her critic, she'll become egotistical and big-headed. We need two people to stay with her and criticize her as much as possible to make sure she doesn't get overly cocky."

"OO! OO!" shouted Clem and Crystal, thrusting their hands in the air.

"Okay, you two. Do you think you can be the meanest, most critical, most horrible friends to Gloria ever?"

"You betcha!" said Clem excitedly.

"Do you have what it takes to keep her down and not let her lack of an inner critic go to her head?"

"We put the 'cruel' in 'cheerleading!'" announced Crystal.

"There's no cruel in cheerleading, though. There's not a 'u,'" pointed out Lili.

"Oh my God, you're right, Lili!" cried Crystal. "You're so smart! Thanks for pointing that out!"

"Yay, Lili!" added Clem.

"Let's get back to groups!" yelled Oleander, pounding a fist on the table. "Group one! Kitty, Franke, Elka and... um... Nils."

"Score!" shrieked Nils.

"And Ford Cruller will go with you."

"Oh, no!" cried Nils miserably.

"Group two! Quentin, Phoebe, JT, Chops, Milka. Milla, you go with them."

"Alright!" exclaimed JT and Chops, slapping each other a high-five.

"Group three. Maloof, Mikhail. Elton, Benny, Bobby... where is Bobby, anyway?"

"He said he's not coming to the meeting because it's stupid," reported Benny.

"Okay, the group that finds Bobby gets extra credit," said Oleander. "Sasha, you take group three. And Lili, Dogen, and Chloe, you come with me."

"What about me, Coach?" came a familiar voice.

"Razputin! What are you doing here, sweetheart?" asked Milla.

"What do you mean?" asked Raz. "It's a psychonauts story. Of course I'm here. I'm the main character. The author said I _had _to be here."

Milla, Sasha, and Oleander all stared at him. "That's a bad explanation. You're already a psychonaut. Explain why you're in Whispering Rock again. Now!" commanded Oleander.

"Uh... I... came to see Lili," said Raz. "How's that?"

"Okay, that works. You come with Lili and me, soldier! Everyone in their group? Good. DEPLOY!" yelled Oleander. Everyone clamped their hands over their ears. "And remember your goal!" shouted Oleander. "Get that critic... and don't let him start criticizing you, or you _will_ be defeated!"


End file.
